Black: Sometimes, not following the rules is the right thing to do … (Rule Number 3 Book 2)

by Teya Tapler

  Evan placed her elbows on the window sill and looked outside. The wind tried playing with her pony tail as the scent of barbeque going on in the area made her look around. Someone was grilling burgers and corn on the cob. It smelled more and more like home. Hoping to see their new landlord behind the grill Evan moved her eyes to the backyard downstairs. There wasn’t much to see; except a shed with a semi-closed door, a couple of garbage bins behind a birch and a pile of building materials next to a forsythia bush. A little bit disappointed but still hopeful about the neighborhood Evan looked further to the left above the birch. The view from the second floor stretched over the neighbors’ backyards as well, revealing a family having fun around the barbeque; another yard with huge orange umbrella surrounded by patio furniture; a wooden play set and a sand box filled with plastic toys a few fences to the right. The yards were enclosed by a variety of fences ranging from bushes through stained wood to chain link. It looked like a normal city neighborhood a little too crammed for her suburban taste but livelier and more vibrant than Hamptonville.

  “I call this room.” Brittany shouted from the bedroom overlooking the street. “I’ll be able to see Josh’s car before he rings the bell.”

  Evan followed Brittany’s voice to the other bedroom and stopped at the door. The room was lighter than hers but two of its five walls met at a slightly sharper angle.

  “My room’s bigger.” Evan tried to tease her.

  ”Right here,” Brittany pointed to the tight corner, ”I'll put my stiletto shaped chair.” She said playfully. “I don’t want to swap rooms. This one’s perfect for me.”

  “Me neither. Na-a-na-na-na-a-na my room is bi-igger.” Evan sang and moved towards the kitchen.

  The space was tighter and darker than her parents’ kitchen back at Hamptonville. The cabinets were painted dark green and there was no kitchen isle or even a breakfast nook. The counter was covered with greenish tiles and a plate of still warm homemade chocolate chip cookies was laid to the right of the sink, filling the room with the most divine aroma in the world.

  There was a good size fridge, a stove and a dishwasher all the same slightly greenish, yellow color an indicator of their age. Evan caressed the dishwasher. “You’re probably older than this house but you’re going to be my new best friend.” She talked quietly to the dishwasher. “I don’t like washing dishes.”

  As her fingers moved along the outside control panel the dishwasher door cracked open and the door fell noisily in her feet.

  “Are you broken? I hope not.” Evan said.

  “Who are you talking to? What’s that noise?” Brittany shouted from her room.

  “We have a broken dishwasher!” Evan shouted back.

  “It works fine. I forgot to tell you that we need to prop the bottom of the door with the wooden cube.” Brittany entered the kitchen. She took the unpainted wooden cube from the kitchen counter and put it under the dishwasher holding the door shut. “Like that,” she said.

  “Is it broken?” Evan said.

  “N-no. It’s just the door latch. Carmen said she’ll ask Andy’s son to fix it the next time he visits.” Brittany smiled reassuringly then dragged Evan towards the exit. “The washer and drier are downstairs in the basement. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  They headed down the stairs to the first floor discussing how each of them will arrange their belongings when the deep male voice interrupted them.

  “Good morning girls.” The voice said. Brittany and Evan turned toward it and saw a man in his early 60s smiling at them from his wheelchair. He had more salt than pepper in his hair and beautiful, sparkling, deep blue eyes under distinguished eyebrows. He rolled closer to them.

  “You were Brittany, weren’t you? You told me your name when you came to look at the apartment the other day.” He stretched his right hand towards Brittany and when she shook his hand and nodded in confirmation, he said. ”Welcome home, Brittany... And you are?” He then turned to Evan.

  ”Nice to meet you, I’m Evan.” Evan said and stretched her right hand in front of him.

  He took it and looked into her eyes.

  “Evan’s a boy’s name, isn’t it? What’s your real, beautiful and dazzling name my dear?” The man asked.

  Evan looked down and blushed, her hand still caught in his. “My name’s Evangeline Shtuttgart,” she said then added in one breath,” but you could call me Evan. Everyone does.”

  “I’ll call you Lin. It suits you more than Evan, if you don’t mind of course.” He said with a smile. ”I'm Alexander Woodsworth II but everyone calls me Andy.”

  Evan caught herself focused on his mesmerizing eyes and saying, “Yes, of course. You can call me Lin.” His eyes were very deep blue color and had a slight purple tint. Just like her favorite flowers the blue pansies. Just like … Zander’s eyes.

  Evan pulled her hand and ran upstairs excusing herself that she had forgotten something up there. Could that be Zander? The man sure looked like him. He also had unruly hair and the same… deep blue purple tinted eyes. She tried to remember how Zander looked the last time she saw him. It has been more than three years since the day he and his friends transcasted from her father’s basement. She secretly waited for him to return and hoped that she would see him again, but she never expected to see him that way. He was the master of time travel. He had a transcaster gun at his disposal and that made it possible for him to visit any space and time location whenever he wanted to. He was the one who could go anywhere and she was the one who was trapped in her lifetime, the one that should get old before him.

  She pushed the door and tossed herself on the sofa. With elbows on her knees she dropped her head in her hands and tried to think.

  This is impossible. This isn’t Zander. This is someone else, somebody totally unrelated to him. She replayed their conversation a few times. He presented himself as Mr. Woodsworth and Zander’s last name was Sage and his mother was the Chemistry teacher and his father was…

  Evan put her hand on the big blue bead hanging from around her neck, the transcaster gun bullet she took out of Zander’s jacket the night before he left. It helped her focus. Her memories became clearer. She remembered how young the Chemistry teacher really was and that the guy who Zander once presented from a distance as his father was actually the one who drove them to New York where the pearls exchange had to happen.

  He called him … Emil. They were all part of a team that traveled through time and space. They were not related. They were just colleagues. So Zander’s last name wasn’t Sage. Or was it? No, this wasn’t Zander.

  He knew how she liked being called Evan. He would have never suggested calling her anything else.

  This cannot be Zander This is NOT him. She decided.

  That was just someone who happened to have the same eye color and she had added the rest of the resemblance in her mind.

  Oh, Evangeline Shtuttgart what's going on with you? She thought.

  “Evan, do you still want to see the basement?” Brittany’s voice came from downstairs.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming.” Evan took her phone out of her pocket, intending to use it as a plausible excuse, and headed to the first floor.

  “Yes, her father’s that professor Shtuttgart. She’s a very smart girl. It runs in her family.” Evan overheard Brittany talking to their landlord.

  “Hi,” Evan smiled sheepishly. “I’ve left my phone upstairs and I am expecting a call.” She waved the phone in her hand and put it back in her pocket.

  “Your generation could not live without your phones and text messages, could you?” Mr. Woodsworth said. “Will you be here this weekend? My son will come to visit. There are some handy-man jobs around the house he needs to take care off. I’d like you to meet him.”

  “I’m not sure…” Evan started.

  “Forget what Carmen told you about him.” Mr.Woodsworth waved his hand. ”I just want you to meet each other. He needs to know who lives upstairs and you need to recognize him and not freak
out when he enters the house unexpected. It’s fair, isn’t it?

  “Okay.” Brittany said.

  “Yes, we’ll be here this weekend.” Evan added as both of them headed to see the washer and dryer in the basement.

  Chapter 3

  Ollie pulled off his black hood as he entered the room. Dressed in carpenter’s jeans, loose T-shirt, a black hooded sweatshirt and sneakers he looked more like a lazy teenager than the cold-blooded murderer he was. Alex looked at Ollie who slouched his way across the room.

  “Did you wipe your feet? It rained yesterday and I don’t want dry mud all over this place. It takes out the flare and grace out of the ambience.” Alex said.

  “Yes, Mo-om.” Ollie retorted and tossed his sweatshirt on the dining room table.

  “Oliver. Do I have to remind you the chain of commands?” Alex said firmly and pushed Ollie’s sweatshirt off the table. “The Chancellor was explicit in his orders that I’m running the mission.”

  Ollie puffed out and sat on the armchair sideways tossing his legs over one of its armrests. He leisurely emptied the pockets of his carpenter’s pants tossing the content on the floor. Digital and organic signature readers and decoders, 25th century bracelet phone, a laser gun and an automatic knife bounced off the well-polished, Macassar ebony hardwood floor.

  “Did you find the reader maker?” Alex asked.

  “I found an object with similar digital signature in one of the houses close by. The signal was undetectably low but your source’s pretty accurate; just one building to the left.” Ollie tried to catch up his breath.

  “They’ve been in the tracking business long enough to know how to compensate for the technology quirks.” Alex pressed his finger on one of the holographic screens in front of him. ”So, you’ve found the golden locket in the house to the left of the initially suggested location?”

  “Yes, a two layer, egg-white house, cheddar cheese shutters and an eggplant door with a few tomato plants to the left of the house.” Ollie’s low baritone sounded worn out.

  “Go and eat something before we continue. It sounds like food is the only thing you can talk about.” Alex gestured toward the kitchen. “There’s some leftover pizza from last night in the fridge.”

  Hearing about food, Ollie got up and moseyed himself towards the kitchen. Alex could hear him opening the fridge and rummaging inside, dropping a can of beer on the floor and then putting it back in before slamming the door of the side by side refrigerator.

  Regardless of his exquisite and modern surroundings Ollie remained the poor boy that enjoyed being at the bottom of the food chain because it gives him the freedom and excuse to not follow any rules. He might become harder to manage as the mission progresses. Alex thought.

  They had rented a contemporary furnished apartment in one of the modern multi-storey apartment buildings close to the Charles River delta in Boston. The living room window was offering them views towards the harbor while the dining room was overseeing the city. Alex looked through the window and admired the view for a moment. The tall buildings of the city center to the left and the glistening waters of Charles River and the Salt and Pepper Bridge to the right were standing out in front of the spotless blue sky. It was nice to work for people with deep pockets – the money were never an issue when they were to be spent for essentials like housing, food or weapons.

  Alex lowered his head and focused on the screen again. A strand of hair fell over his eyes. He raised his head and mechanically smoothed back the unruly lock over the rest on his gelled head. A smile appeared on his face as if he was admiring at his reflection in the mirror. Then Alex slowly lowered his head and looked at the screen in front of him. It had a blue-print like map of the town of Cambridge, Massachusetts. The building he had recently touched was now crossed over and completed a small oval cluster of red X-es. Alex pressed his finger twice on the square marking the building Ollie said was emitting similar digital signature signals as the reader maker object they were after. The image of the building on the map filled with green. A callout bubble appeared. It was filled with information gathered from the nearby satellites, indicating Alex’s distance to that location, the air temperature, the speed of the wind there, the number of people in and outside of the house in radius of two miles. Alex tapped the callout and it burst like a soap bubble. That information was not necessary at the moment.

  One more red light appeared in the top right corner of the screen as yet another satellite came into range. Now there were eight red lights on the first line. The cluster of 240 possible satellite connections was still looking lonely. The 21st century technology was less advanced and even that older model computer was starving for data feeds and connections. The information available was limited to the capabilities of the non-military satellites passing over Boston at that time. Accessing the military satellites was off limits even for Alex and his bosses. Doing so would mean announcing their presence in that time and space location, something they preferred to avoid at all cost.

  The new satellite brought additional set of information to the screen. Black dots started to appear on the blue-print indicating the location of the people. Alex watched the dots for a while. Two of them were inside the house and four were darting around as if someone was moving in or out of the place.

  Are those the Anaconda guys leaving their hide-out already? It’s impossible. They shouldn’t have known about Ollie. He joined the mission recently, since the Chancellor enlisted him to eliminate that girl. No one from the Anaconda team should have seen Ollie yet, besides he had been in the surrounding area only twice. This wasn’t enough to raise suspicions. Alex’s thoughts were becoming restless. He fidgeted on his chair as his impatience grew. He ought to know who those people were and what was going on there. He needed that information right away.

  “Ollie, you’ve to go back and check something. There’s too much activity going on around that house.” Alex shouted towards the kitchen. The sound of an empty beer can tossed in the kitchen sink from a distance came before Ollie’s response.

  “It’s half an hour with the bus and they’ll be gone by then,” Ollie spoke with his mouth full. He looked at the colorful bracelet on his wrist. It was the only thing left from the moveseat he tried to smuggle to that time and space location. The moveseats were a 25th century invention, a car that could be dematerialized and evoked again by a click on the owner’s bracelet. Compact, fuel efficient, capable of traveling on the ground, in the air and on the water, the moveseats have become the preferred vehicles. Unfortunately for Ollie, the decomposition to string level during the transcast had damaged his moveseat and rendered it unusable. He stroke the bracelet and appeared on the kitchen threshold chewing on a slice of cold pizza, looking tired and reluctant to go out again.

  “Put on the glasses then. They should be on the sofa.” Alex said.

  Ollie finished the pizza slice in his hand, wiped his mouth on one of his long sleeves and lay on the sofa. He pulled a set of red framed glasses from between the sofa cushions, adjusted the settings on the side of the frame and put them on his face. A bright white light flashed, indicating that the glassed were activated. Ollie’s body jerked. A few more jolts followed then his body gradually softened and lay there resembling a plush toy thrown on the sofa. It didn’t move and there were no signs of breathing. His eyes were closed. To someone unfamiliar with the technology Ollie would be considered dead. The only indicator of what was going on was the sparkles at each corner of the frames. They flashed following the rhythm of Ollie’s heart.

  ***

  Ollie materialized in the backyard shed of the “for sale” building a block away and walked down the street toward the house of interest. It was easy to spot it; a pile of boxes and furniture on the sidewalk and a top-of-the-line, spotless black truck parked in front of it.

  “There you are,” a beautiful blonde girl spoke on her way out of the house then continued bubbling around the guy on the sidewalk. ”I’m so lucky to have you. Your truck is the
only car where all our stuff fits in. Not that we have too much stuff, but you know that I always need one more pair of shoes.”

  All dressed in various hues of fuchsia, with hands on her waist she looked critically at the pile of luggage on the sidewalk and continued talking to the guy without pausing to take a breath. Ollie recognized her. It was Brittany, Evangeline Shtuttgart’s friend. The guy should be her boyfriend Josh, the one with the rich father.

  Ollie looked at the house. A boy and girl on the doorway were trying to decide who would carry one of the boxes inside. They were too far and hidden in the shadow of the house to distinguish their features or even the color of their hair. All that Ollie noticed was the awkward posture and gestures of the boy. He had the word “geek” written all over him.

  “Did you bring the box with my fluffy slippers? Those are very important to me.” Brittany’s chatter made Ollie look towards her. ”Without them it won’t feel like home at all. You know me. I’m a creature of habit. If I don’t find them in this pile or in the truck you’ll have to drive back. They should be waiting for you in the garage back in Hamptonville.”

  “Hi!” Ollie’s low baritone voice saved Josh from Brittany’s monologue. “Is that this year’s model?”

  “It has less than 100 miles on it.” Josh turned towards Ollie.

  “Ni-ice,” Ollie lifted his bushy eyebrows with appreciation.

  “Nice and more,” Josh said proudly and patted the truck like a horse.

  “May I look at the engine?” Ollie followed Josh toward the front of the truck. “I’m Oliver, by the way. I live over there.” He chose a direction and pointed down the street.

  “Nice to meet you, I’m Josh.” Josh stretched his hand to meet Ollie’s. Finding someone to talk to about torque, horse power and gas mileage, he stopped paying attention to Brittany’s chatter. The two guys hid behind the open hood cover.

  “Oh, my dear fluffy slippers! Oh, my dear pink bath towel! “ Brittany’s voice came to them. She twirled on the sidewalk with a box in hands. A variety of fluffy and feathered pink stuff was peeking out of the semi-opened box. “Oh, my dear feathered boa. You are the most important things. You’ll help me turn this new place into a home.” Dancing around, she bumped into Josh.